During one of my late night conversations
With William Shakespeare,
He told me that the dawn creeps in on little cat feet.
I told him I disagreed, the dawn crawls in like a parasite.
We continued to quibble, but eventually we settled into another subject.
But just as we put aside our disagreement
The dawn snuck up upon us,
scratching brilliant streaks of red into the sky.
"See?" he told me.
I waited a moment, appraising my fall to his victory before,
finally asserting my concession: